The Second Fall
by stone in focus
Summary: Through their memories, the Republic war hero and the redeemed Jedi Knight struggle to reconcile their pasts while grappling with what is–and isn't–meant to be. Carth/fem!Revan. Rated M for sexual content and occasional profanity.
1. Chapter 1

**01. Altered Perceptions**

_In her arms, Revan cradled the dead._

_His name was unknown to her, but she clutched him to her breast like he was her own. Blood trickled down his cherub-like cheek, flaxen hair caked with grime. Not more than four years old, he was only a boy. Only an innocent, little boy._

_Sand dunes lay before her, undulating into the horizon. Her muscles ached with each step as she bore the child's weight, her knees crying out for reprieve_–_how long had she wandered this endless expanse? Storm clouds billowed in the distance, but the rain never came. She wet her cracked lips, but they were never quenched. _

_And this hellish journey was but a scream writhing in the pit of her stomach, never finding release._

_Eventually, Revan collapsed, her body wracked with sobs. It was then she sensed a presence, a chill grazing the hairs on the back of her neck. Slowly, she lifted her head to see a cloaked woman standing before her, silver-plaited hair framing her veiled face._

_"Do not be afraid, Padawan." Her mouth did not move, but Revan could feel her words probing deep into her conscious. "This," a gnarled hand reached for her shoulder, "is where you seize destiny!"_

Rinna bucked her elbow, jolting awake.

Hell, not _another _nightmare.

She wiped the cold sweat from her matted hairline, her eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness of her hotel room. A year ago, Revan's memories were nothing more than a trickle in the back of her mind, shapeless and indiscernible; only when she faced Malak in that final battle aboard the Star Forge did she fully begin to realize that her former apprentice was far from the last demon she would wrestle. And now, with the floodgates unlocked, images of razed worlds invaded her dreams;

Of a foolishly brave Jedi, shrieking as powerful surges of lighting coursed through her convulsing body;

Of a bastard child clinging to a tattered blanket as his sole means of defense against the harsh winter;

Of a crippled man begging for mercy as a blade slid across his throat;

Of corpses set ablaze, littered across the planetside as they burnished with a blood orange glow.

Rinna glanced down at her palms, studying the calluses and creases marring her skin. One pair of hands had been responsible for it all. Revan's hands. _Her_ hands.

She considered a good night's sleep one where she didn't wake up vomiting.

But the dream in the desert felt…different. It was more lucid than the others, less fleeting, and she wondered if the fact that she'd dreamt it to some degree of frequency meant it held a particular significance. Perhaps it held a key to understanding Revan's past. Or maybe it was simply another means for the Force to inflict eternal torment.

She cursed under her breath as she caught a glimpse of the time. Only fifteen minutes to shower off, get dressed, and flag down an air taxi to make her way over to the Petrax District where a celebration would commemorate the well-overdue resolution of civil war…and where a certain Republic officer would be formally honored with the title of Admiral.

Carth expected her to be there, though she failed to see the common sense in obliging him. A meeting with the Jedi Council at the Temple had already landed her on Coruscant two days ago, but attending a gala–of all the ridiculously frivolous things–wasn't conducive to keeping a low profile. She had prepared a number of reasons to decline before he contacted her, maintaining that though a minute few knew that Revan was still alive, and even fewer that knew her true identity, she intended for it to stay that way. However, her resolve crumbled when she noticed, even over the poor reception of the vidcall, how his eyes glowed with anticipation as he asked her if she would be accompanying him for the evening. Guess this meant the hair-washing excuse would have to be saved for another occasion.

It wasn't that she didn't look forward to seeing him. Despite how the mission had them chained at the ankles for the past twelve months, he had left her with a strange emptiness when they temporarily parted ways. She had grown accustomed to him always poking his nose over her shoulder whenever she perused schematics and formulated plans; always chiming in with a cheesy quip that was guaranteed to earn a groan or two; always holding her close and shielding her from the line of fire.

She thought she'd welcome the space, but in truth, she just felt…_bare_ without him.

She glanced at the chrono again and let out a slight moan. Eleven minutes left to convince herself that going out was a better alternative to staying in bed.

She'd be late.

* * *

Carth Onasi was partial to the unadorned–and sometimes disheveled–version of Rinna. Over time, he had grown fond of the windswept hair hastily pulled back into a ponytail, the sunburnt cheeks, the smudges of dirt on her chin. He even loved all of the painfully awkward expressions she had shot him when he had coaxed her into putting on a suit of armor that hit her in all the wrong places. Attempting to explain it was in her best interest earned him a scowl, but like hell he was going to let her waltz into a potential firefight without the proper protection. Irking her had just been a bonus. She deserved it after the remark about his flight jacket looking like something a rancor had thrown up.

Once, she had been nothing more than a name and a rank to him: Rinna Luce, a mere ensign of the Republic fleet. Now, she was one of the most remarkable people he had ever known, one who never batted an eye at getting down on her hands and knees and doing the necessary dirty work. She was fiery but never impetuous; outspoken but never thoughtless. Maybe it made her less of a Jedi in the eyes of some, but in all honesty, he thought it made her more sensible than any member of the Order would ever allow oneself to be. It made her…_human._

It was for those reasons it almost seemed alien to him to see her in full dress attire that night, bathed in moonlight as she stooped over the balustrade. From the way she flipped her hair that was uncharacteristically let down and fidgeted in her little red number in a manner that most of the gala's attendees would consider unladylike, she was no more comfortable with the idea.

But no less breathtaking.

As her head perked up, she spotted him standing in the archway. He tensed when she started towards him, her gown serving as an effective reminder that she was, indeed, a woman–a woman with hips; a woman with breasts; a woman…

…who tripped over herself mid-stride and let out an _oof! _as she tumbled onto the polished marble. Despite wincing from secondhand embarrassment, he couldn't resist chuckling. Now that was the Rinna he knew–more graceful in nerf-hide boots than a pair of heels. He set down the two flutes of champagne he had carried out and extended a hand. "I didn't think you'd take falling for me so literally."

She groaned. "Hello to you, too, Carth."

He cracked a smirk as she blew a puff of air into her bangs, recognizing her disgruntled expression as one that had often accompanied any one of her variants of, "Don't quit your day job, Onasi." Whatever. That line about those Sith punks stealing their lunch credits had been pure gold.

As he helped her up, his hand inadvertently slipped along her backside curves, suddenly finding himself forgetting how to swallow. Scratch that–the dress wasn't so much of a reminder as a kriffing _taunt. _Snatching his hand away, he coughed out some form of an apology and braced himself for a glare, but she simply lifted an eyebrow. "Couldn't wait to take me out to dinner first, could you?"

Blasted woman knew how to recover quickly. Carth, on the other hand: "Ah…I…you're…you look…um…"

"Now would be an appropriate time to throw in one of your ingenious terms of endearment, flyboy."

Fumbling for the back of his neck, he lifted his peaked navy-issue cap as he swiped a hand through his hair. "I, uh, it's just that…never seen you without…you know, armor. Or robes."

"Have you already forgotten about the incident on Taris? Only one day after we met? It's certainly an impression _I'll _never forget."

She still referred to it as the "incident." Great. "I thought we established that was an accident…"

"Not to mention all the other times you've caught me minus a few articles of clothing. None of which were by choice, mind you–"

"Yeah, yeah, and I bet it was pure agony for you to flaunt yourself in front of me."

"Right…because despite being imprisoned in force cages and our brains melting out of our ears, I was only concerned with my level of sex appeal." She snorted, crossing her arms. "Believe it or not, waiting for death to screw me up the ass isn't my idea of a good time. I doubt death possesses the common courtesy to lube up, either."

Naturally, having an excellent grasp of timing, Carth had just taken a sip from his glass and nearly choked as champagne sputtered from his mouth. He _did _say she was breathtaking.

"Oh, please. Like that's any worse than anything else we've said to each other."

He scratched at the stubble under his chin, clearing his throat. "I'm just…ever-impressed with your level of…"

"Eloquence?"

"Tact."

She gave an innocent shrug. "I reserve that kind of tact only for you, flyboy. And the occasional person that pisses me off."

"Should I feel special or terrified?"

A simper played upon her lips as she ambled closer to him. "Well, had you let me finish my sentence earlier, I would have suggested us thinking about finding more favorable circumstances for disrobing." He felt the blood rise in his cheeks as she tugged at his uniform and tilted her head in. "Gorgeous. Beautiful. Any one of those will do right about now."

His mouth dithered into a wry smile of his own. He'd seen that face one too many times before–the slight twitch at the corner of her lips, the sparkle in her eyes that already knew she had him hook and line and only had to wait for the sinker. It only aggravated the itch burrowing its way past his stomach that "four years, seven months" flickered in his brain as a reminder of how long it had been since he had…well, _you know. _If the fact that he had acted like a bumbling teenager attending his first school dance hadn't already permacreted that into reality.

But hell, she made it fun to lose at their little game, predictable as it was. Heh. Maybe he did love the attention after all.

Pursing his lips, he idly swirled his drink. An undone belt and a hitched-up dress flitted across his thoughts; he suspected it wouldn't take but one nudge towards the coat room–wait, wait–the coat room? Yeah. _Real _classy. If that was how things were meant to pan out, what had stopped them from slipping into the _Hawk's _cargo hold and desecrating the sacks of foodstuffs while they had the chance?

With a roll of the eyes, he pulled at his collar as he turned to lean against the balustrade. Force only knew how much he needed the fresh air, anyway. When he met her gaze once more, the coquettish glint mellowed into a gentle grin, and he felt something swell in his chest–by stars, she _was _beautiful.

No, he mused to himself, savoring another swallow of champagne, the moment they'd finally lie down together had to be perfect. It _would_ be perfect. But for now, he'd change subjects. Just to be on the safe side. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd make it."

The teasing lilt to her voice immediately vanished. "I'm sorry I missed the ceremony."

"You didn't miss much. I'm just…I'm just glad you came."

A breeze spilled dark wisps of hair across her face, her eyes shifting to the side as she brushed the strands back into place. "Yeah. Me, too."

He furrowed his brow. For the first time, he couldn't interpret her expression. He thought it odd how quickly she had lost interest, instead peering down into her bubbling flute. But maybe she was only pouting because he had taken her toy away.

Holding out his arm for her, he gestured towards the stairs pointing northeast. "Would you like to go for a walk? Those steps lead down to the botanical gardens. I hear they're pretty this time of year."

She shot him a look that questioned when he had ever cared about plants, but she indulged him.

They wandered along the main pathway in silence, save for Rinna's occasional murmuring as she studied the different species of flora. Carth had to be the one to reengage conversation. "Funny how the war ended only days ago, and already, it seems like a lifetime away."

He watched her trace the turquoise-tipped petals of a night iris, pausing to breathe in the flower's clean, crisp scent. "I have to admit I still can't wrap my head around how far Taris feels. You think it has any chance of being restored someday, if Telos does?"

Mention of his homeworld still bore a sting. This surprised him more than he expected. "Telos…" He sighed. "As much as I would like to have a more optimistic outlook, it's just an experiment right now. It didn't suffer half the losses Taris did, and it'll still take years to recover, if at all."

"I think the Republic still has some fighting spirit left."

He felt a squeeze of his arm as he glanced over at her, a subtle smile warming his face. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

The wind picked up again, carrying the muffled sounds of a classic Molovian piece and the low drone of the mingling guests. "This is quite the party you have going here," she said. "You guys know how to shake things up just as much as the Sith do."

He laughed, elbowing her. "Aw, c'mon, it can't be _that _bad. At least you don't have some jerk trying to cop a feel the entire night. I'm amazed you didn't lop off his hands in the process."

"Yeah, where were _you, _wonder boy?"

"Too busy avoiding projectile vomit."

"Is that what that was? I thought it was just more of your lame dance moves."

"Hey, I didn't hear anyone else complain."

"That's because they were less than a Tarisian ale from losing consciousness."

"Details. Anyway, I believe it's you I have to thank for such a pleasant evening. One I wouldn't mind blocking from memory."

"Don't tell me you're still jealous I outwitted you, Onasi."

"No." His hand slid down to the small of her back and rested on her hip, pulling her close. "Just jealous I didn't get the first dance."

* * *

Ah, Taris. The socioeconomic cesspit.

The Upper City Cantina bustled with more activity that morning than Carth could ever remember on any of his previous trips to the world. It was something he would've expected from the seedy districts of Lower City, but even the nobles saw reason to get a running start on the evening's drinking festivities. Not that he blamed them. The planet-wide Sith occupation was enough to make any person want to drown oneself into a stupor.

He made his way through the foyer, then signaled to Rinna, whose attention had been lured away by a retired pazaak player bent on selling his deck. He put a hand to his forehead and groaned, making a note to keep a close eye on what few credits they had to spare. The woman better not make a habit of stopping for every little thing that piqued her curiosity.

After successfully prying her away (not without receiving an earful of claims as to her gambling expertise), the two of them found a table over in a dimly-lit corner of the cantina where Rinna could fuel up while they discussed logistics. "There's been rumors circling around about Republic escape pods crashing down in the Undercity," he said. "I think it's our best bet to start looking there. Only problem is, the area's swarming with Sith. They probably won't be looking for a couple of grunts like us–not when they're trying to track down Bastila–but we still have to find a way to get past all the guards to even get to the Undercity." He paused for a response, unable to tell if she was nodding to merely humor him or if her head was bobbing to the jaunty tune playing overhead. "Are you even listening?"

She didn't look up as her fork and knife scraped against her plate. "Swarming with Sith; something about Bastila; Undercity; et cetera, et cetera, et cetera…got it."

"I don't think you realize just how important this mission is. Even with Revan out of the picture, if Malak finds a way to exploit Bastila's battle meditation–"

"End of the 'verse as we know it. Right."

"Listen, beautiful, if this is the way it's going to be the entire–"

"One," she sighed, putting down her eating utensils in a very deliberate fashion, "what did I say about the pet names?"

"They're not–"

"And two, stay here."

He gawked, mouth slightly ajar, as she eased her way up against the bar next to some dark-haired, gangly-looking sap. Probably ten years her junior, too. He snorted. Oh, this was rich. Sure, she had no problems parading herself in front of _other _men, but if he let slip the most innocuous comment about anything remotely related to her femininity, it'd be grounds for castration.

Gangly winked as she threw him an impish look before retreating to the table. Carth fought the urge to hurl. "What was that?"

"That, my doubting companion, was the fine art of inviting oneself to a party."

He balked. "Are you crazy? We don't have time to be screwing around!"

"Will you relax? Don't worry; you're invited, too. The moron actually thought you were my boyfriend." She scoffed as she shook her head. "Of course, I told him it wasn't anything serious. Might as well keep my options open."

Was she for real? "No! No party! How can you be thinking of–"

"You're going to make me ruin the surprise, aren't you?" His hands balled into fists when she cut him off_–again. _"It wasn't that I _wasn't _listening to you before; I was just eavesdropping on our new friend's plans to get completely tanked with the rest of his Sith cronies tonight. We drop in for a bit, make ourselves comfortable, and once they all have happily drunk themselves into oblivion, we slip out with their uniforms…which will then enable us to sneak past the guards into the Undercity."

"…Oh." He eased back into his chair, staring her down. Damn it, that was actually a pretty good idea. "You didn't say he was Sith."

She pointed her fork at him, causing him to contemplate for a split second just how sharp its tips were. "You're just jealous you didn't think of it. And what was your rank? Command–"

Carth lurched forward in his seat. "Will you keep it down? Maybe someone else has the same idea as you and is listening in on _us._"

"Well, aren't you just a fun little spaceball of paranoia?"

Ignoring her, he folded his arms over his chest and tapped his foot, pretending to fixate his gaze on the people flocking to the viewing room to watch the next dueling match. "By the way, I could have," he muttered. "I _would _have…but somehow, I don't think he'd warm up to my schoolgirl charm."

She threw him a brief glance before taking another bite, a coy smirk etching onto her face. "Jealous."

He grunted.

"Now if it's not too much to ask, will you finally let me enjoy the first decent meal I've had since…well, who really knows when?"

"Decent" was a stretch, judging by the dubious-looking juices that oozed from her serving of Tarisian mystery meat, but he chose not to put the matter into question. His stomach had been agitated enough for one day; blasted girl was going to give him an ulcer. Sighing, he waved a dismissive hand towards her. "Knock yourself out, _ensign._"

Not that they had much use for formalities on such an atypical mission–and with any luck, she'd be out of his hair as soon as they rescued Bastila–but he had a feeling he'd relish pulling rank every opportunity he got. That is, if she ever listened long enough to realize he was doing so. Presently, she was too preoccupied with polishing off her plate to even make so much as a snub of the nose in his direction.

He squinted at her. "You're going to be more trouble than you're worth, aren't you?"

Rinna seemed to consider her words carefully before responding. That, or she had discovered some foreign entity in her entree. "Would you be disappointed if I wasn't?"

It hadn't even been two hours since she had woken up from that coma and officially "greeted" him with the barrel of his own blaster, barely recalling her own damn name. But strangely, he didn't have an answer for her.

He liked it when she _didn't _talk.


	2. Chapter 2

**02. Lures of the Subconscious **

Rinna put one hand to her forehead and another at her hip as spare clothes, equipment, and small supply kits lay strewn across her bed. Perusing her effects, she waited for something to jump out at her, something with meaning or personal value, but nothing triggered.

Perhaps touch would spark a memory. She reached for a tunic, rubbing the stiff fabric between her fingers. Standard-issue. Nothing sentimental there. Her hand drifted over to a blaster pistol. Looked new. Had she fired it on the _Endar Spire? _She picked it up–apparently, she was left-handed–feeling the weight in her palm. A little on the heavy side. Probably wouldn't have been her first preference.

She then grabbed a vibrosword that had seen its fair share of use, her hand melding to the hilt. The blade a natural extension of her arm, she cut through the air with a few effortless swings–now _that _was more like it. As she rotated the weapon, it flared in the mid-morning light, bringing attention to the tiny nicks that marred the sword. Tilting it closer to her face, she noticed blood had spattered where the blade met the hilt. Maybe that pilot had done a half-assed job of cleaning it while she had been checked out the entire week.

She froze. If he had gone through her belongings, he hadn't rooted through her underwear, too, had he?

Preferring _not _to think about the disturbing fetishes her partner may or may not have, she instead tightened her grip on the vibrosword, trying to conjure up any sort of recollection. A thrust forward–she heard a guttural cry; a small twist of the blade–she felt the tearing of her opponent's flesh. No names or faces came to mind; maybe it had been a Sith trooper she encountered in one of the corridors of the _Endar Spire. _

Another thought was forming. Someone had attempted to contact her over the communicator, urging crewmembers towards the bridge. That must have been Onasi.

But there had been a second man's voice…yes! That tow-headed twit! The one who seemed compelled to bombard her with trivial information despite the fact that they were moments away from exploding into fracking space dust. What was his name? Traviss? Trav…something?

_They raced towards the bridge, sirens blaring in their ears. Rinna felt the burn in her lungs, the smoke growing thicker as the heat exuding from the flames started to blister her skin. Trask held out an arm, signaling her to halt as he peered around the bend to scout out the area ahead. Before them, one of the blast doors opened, an ebon-clad figure advancing in their direction. _

_"Damn, another dark Jedi!" Trask gritted his teeth, motioning for Rinna to make a run for it. "Listen, I'll try to hold him off. You just get to the escape pods. The commander's waiting for you!"_

_"But what will–"_

_He had to shove her. "Go!" _

_The door clanked shut. _

Stars. It was Trask Ulgo. He'd given his life for her.

But why?

_"The commander's waiting for you!"_

And what the hell did that mean? Was Onasi really waiting for just any survivor…or had someone specifically intended to keep her alive?

Or, as a more likely alternative, was she just letting herself become paranoid?

She sighed, stroking her temples in an another attempt to jog her memory. Onasi had mentioned something about her thrashing in her sleep before finally emerging from her comatose state. She remembered having visions of light and sound–fusions of yellow, green, and red; the drone of pulsating energy. Lightsabers? That meant Jedi…and Sith. But for what reason would she have been privy to such a battle? Had she simply played spectator to another random encounter on the _Endar Spire?_

Or could she have dreamt it all?

No…no, that wasn't right, either. Rinna reached further into the void, eyes closed as she struggled to make out a face, but she found herself grasping at nothing but…darkness. A darkness that seemed to take on a life of its own, fueled by…what? Anger? Pride?

_Cold sweat drenched her forehead, her throat growing parched. She felt a squeezing in her fists as two black tendrils twisted about her wrists._

Or was it…desperation?

_Large talons spawned from the inklike coils. Her lungs punctured as the talons tore into her chest, burning through her like dry ice against skin. The pain spread up into her throat and clawed at her neck, her heart seizing up as she gasped for breath…_

…and then there was no more, as if all was cut off.

What the hell _was _that?

She slowly sat back down on her bed, biting at her thumb. Beyond the intermittent flashes, digging into her subconscious for some hope of enlightenment was akin to sticking her hand into murky waters and trying to keep the mud from slipping through her fingers. But there _had _to be something else; certainly her life encompassed more than the few hours she spent on that ship. There should've at least been a holograph, a memento, even just a little trinket in her belongings that was a fond reminder of friends, family…_anything._

Did she have a family?

"Forget something?"

She spun around to find Onasi sitting in a beaten-up armchair, cloth in hand as he polished his blaster. Her eyes narrowed. Had he been watching her? "I'm…not sure. Is this all I packed?"

The question had been more for herself than her uninvited audience, but he still thought enough to give an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. "It's possible something went missing in the crash."

Really? _That _was his helpful insight? "Thanks, Commander; I hadn't thought of that."

He stopped mid-wipe, looking up at her from beneath bunched-together brows, but said nothing.

Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes again, summoning her memory once more. The muscles in her shoulders eased as she continued the slowed respirations, almost as if they were instinctual, and gradually, the scene came into focus. A wave of yellow swept across a blue canvas, soon expanding into a panorama of golden grains glistening against a cloudless sky. She could hear the sound of children's gleeful shrieking as they dashed through the fields; a young girl tugged at her hand as she begged for a piggyback ride. She probed further, and a name started to form: Deralia.

Her home planet?

A pair of bodies swirled into shape, male and female, with kind wrinkles at the corners of their eyes. She pictured them trailing alongside a crop harvester…why were these farmers worth noting? Could they have been her parents?

She suddenly winced, clutching her stomach as a sharp pang seared through it. She remembered now: over a decade ago, a famine had claimed hundreds of lives, and an unfortunate subsequent outbreak of disease only amplified the body count.

That meant her parents were…

Rinna's throat constricted, choking back a pain that was all too familiar, yet the wound stung as if experiencing it for the first time. Was she the only surviving member of her family?

As her head fell into her hands, something slipped out from under her shirt, dangling freely below her chin. It was a tarnished ring, a rather cheap little thing, threaded through a neck chain. She'd seen the piece of jewelry when dipping in for a quick shower, but hadn't thought much of it at the time. A sign of a significant other?

_"Happy birthday, big sis!"_

_That was Rinna's only warning before the mischievous monster pounced on her from behind, knocking the wind out of her. Good grief, for the thirteen-year-old's wiry frame, Kaela was heavier than she looked. _

_Before Rinna had a chance to say her thanks, Kaela bounced onto the couch and shoved into Rinna's hands a tiny box adorned with a faded pink bow. "Open it! Open it!"_

_Rinna popped the cover off, her eyes widening when she saw the glint of a minute wine-colored gemstone set in a plain metal band. _

_"Remember when we passed by that jewelry shop? The one in Octavia Sector?" Kaela said, anticipating the questioning eyebrow Rinna was bound to throw at her. "I didn't have enough to get the exact ring you were looking at, but I tried to get one like it." _

_"But Kae…where'd you even get the money for this one?"_

_"Oh, you know…I just helped a few people out here and there…"_

_"Kaela…"_

_"It was all perfectly legal; I swear!" Rinna raised her eyebrow even higher, Kaela countering with a toothy grin. "Well…at least no one got hurt?"_

_Great. Maybe setting an earlier curfew wasn't such a bad idea. Or just setting a curfew, period._

_"So you like it, right?"_

_Rinna's shoulders fell as she exhaled in resignation. It was the thought that mattered, right? "Of course, Kae." She wrapped her arms around her, giving her a tight squeeze. "I love it."_

_"Umm…Rin? Do you mind if I wear it sometimes?"_

_Rinna laughed, tickling the girl until she squealed. "I should've figured there was a catch."_

There was a warmth in her cheeks as the corners of her lips curved north. A sister…she had a _sister._ Eight years younger. Or nine, maybe?

The smile instantly retracted, however–if Rinna had enlisted in the navy, what had happened to Kaela?

She heard the zip of a jacket and the plodding of footsteps towards the door. "If you're just about set, we really should be going." Onasi sounded borderline annoyed. Must have been his passive-aggressive way of telling her she needed to get her ass in gear. Fine. She wasn't thrilled to be a mere tag-along on a reconnaissance outing, but she needed the change of scenery. Wasn't like she was going to figure out much more being cooped up in the apartment, anyway.

Per Onasi's direction, they headed over to the Upper City Cantina. He stayed his distance, always a few paces off to the side, eyes alert to his surroundings but never making direct contact with her. Not a man of small talk, she guessed. In the silence, Rinna found it difficult to keep her thoughts from drifting back to Kaela, tempted to examine every possible worst case scenario. What if she had…or what if–

No, no, this wasn't _helping. _She'd only end up thinking in circles. But the commander…he knew things she didn't. Or at least things she couldn't recall. If not personally, he had to have at least known _of _her prior to the Sith ambush; perhaps she could strike up a conversation, making the usual queries about his military service and other harmless topics, and then work her way towards gleaning any bits of information about what had transpired on the _Endar Spire._

That backfired.

Onasi had appeared understanding enough back at the hideout that morning, allowing her some time and space to gather her bearings about their current predicament. He'd even made her a surprisingly decent cup of caffa–none of that watered-down shit that tasted like bantha urine–as he'd attempted to assuage any doubts about the exact intent of their mission on Taris.

But he'd prepared questions of his own. Ones, she now realized, that had probably been coursing through his mind all week. What really happened on the _Endar Spire? _What was her role? If she was just a common soldier, why had she been put under Bastila's command? What did the Jedi want with her? And though he never overtly stated it, she more or less inferred from his interrogation that he thought it much too convenient that she was transferred last minute and somehow managed to be the only other survivor of the attack.

As for her knee-jerk retort: "It's an absolute _pleasure _to be working with you, too, Onasi."

He glowered at her. Didn't score any points with that remark, did she?

So much for the idea that he might have light to shed; clearly, he was just as clueless as she was. Wonderful. She sucked in a breath of air through her teeth, deciding her best bet was to placate him with the truth about her damaged memory. He never replied with more than a grunt, but she'd understood the look on his face. He wouldn't buy the amnesia excuse for long.

Though the commander turned out to be a dead end, the trip to the Upper City Cantina paid off. Tossing around a few lowbrow euphemisms with one of the patrons at the bar was all it took to work out a means of infiltrating subterranean Taris. That, and it had sent Onasi into one hell of a tizzy. Was it really that easy to screw with his head? Entertaining, to say the least. As long as she didn't end up lighting the wrong fuse.

While Onasi ducked out and investigated the dueling matches, Rinna used the opportunity to slip away and log onto the nearby HoloNet terminal, intending to search the database for her sister's name. Every query spat back the same answer: _No results found. _Damn it. Nothing at all? She scratched her head. There had to be–

"We have to go."

"But wait, I–"

"_Now._" She nearly fell off her stool when Onasi grabbed her by the shoulder. "A couple of Sith soldiers came in asking questions about survivors from the crashed pods. I'm not taking any chances."

Forced to continue their intelligence gathering elsewhere, they spent the rest of the afternoon making casual inquiries and dealing with the occasional inane confrontation. Upper City was a magnet for jackasses, it seemed. But truth be told, Rinna was grateful for the diversion. Staying focused on other matters kept her from driving herself crazy. Given that a planet-wide quarantine had grounded them on Taris for an indefinite amount of time, she figured there'd be plenty of nights to rack her brain and do a little personal reconnaissance later.

After a quick run back to the apartment to regroup, Onasi motioned towards the door. "It's going to get dark soon. We should start heading over to that party of yours."

"Think we should pick up a bottle of Tarisian ale to bring along?"

"Why the hell would we do that?"

She shrugged. "Proper etiquette."

"Yeah, right. Etiquette. Did 'proper etiquette' ever cross your mind when you pulled my own blaster on me? Or was that just your way of saying good morning?"

"You're still sore about that? I didn't know who you were! And I didn't actually fire the damn thing, did I?" She gritted her teeth. "Though something tells me I'm going to regret that I didn't."

"What's that?"

"Nothing, Commander."

Conversation hit a lull as they ventured back outside. "So…" Rinna waited for the word to land, but Onasi showed more interest in staring off into space than continuing any sort of discussion. Sure, there were a million other people she'd rather be talking with right now, too–that is, if she could ever recall any of their names–but beggars couldn't be choosers. "Bastila Shan…what is she like?"

That got his attention. "You're kidding, right? I thought you two already knew each other. She was the one who specifically requested your transfer."

Her mouth hung open for a moment before deciding to clamp it shut again. That, she hadn't expected (and if she didn't know the most basic of facts, just how much was she really forgetting?), but she didn't care to risk another onslaught of implied accusations by pursuing the subject further. "I…only saw her once, for a debriefing. We never actually talked face-to-face." Then again, they very well could have and she just didn't remember.

"There's not much to tell. Bastila's…a private person. Very aloof. It's just as well, I guess. I don't make it a habit to get to know people more than I have to." His pace slowed, casting towards her a sideways glance that was probably as close as he'd ever commit to making eye contact. "Nothing personal."

Of course. She certainly didn't take it personally when he grilled her like some criminal earlier, so why should she start now? "So that means…you're _not _a fan of mixing business with pleasure?"

He shot her a double-take, almost stumbling over his own feet. "_No._"

She suppressed a smile as he inched a couple steps away from her. Dear lord, he really _was _that easy.

"She's younger than you–Bastila," he said, clearing his throat. "Only twenty-two, maybe twenty-three years old."

"And exactly how old do you think I am?"

He waved her off. "That's not what I meant. And I'm not falling into that trap."

Maybe Onasi was smarter than he looked.

"Because of her advanced battle meditation techniques, Bastila holds the key to leading the Republic to victory. And she's arrogant as hell because she knows it. You two would probably get along famously." He snorted. "Can't say I envy her, though. The girl's got a lot of weight on her shoulders. Too much, if you ask me."

Rinna didn't bother to chip in a response, instead retreating back into her own thoughts. So the Jedi was only twenty-two years old, not long into adulthood. About the same age as Kaela, if she had…

She stopped in her tracks, spotting the sign for the north side apartments. The high-rise architecture wasn't unlike the complex on the south end of the city, albeit in a much more aesthetically pleasing condition. "Onasi, over here. This must be the place."

He shielded his eyes from the glare of the setting sun as he studied the gold-plated lettering, then riffled a hand through a few wayward strands of hair. "The name's Davin, remember?"

"And I'm Catia; I know. We've been over the plan several times already."

"A plan that better work."

The scraping of their soles against the floor echoed in the unusually empty hallway, Onasi taking a quick glance at the datapad to ensure they had the right apartment number. The low, throbbing bass emanating from a couple doors down apparently wasn't indication enough. As they approached their destination, however, Rinna felt a gradual knotting in her stomach. "Wait…" she said when he reached for the buzzer.

"What? Don't tell me you're having second thoughts now."

"I…no." She clutched the ring on her necklace, fiddling with the gemstone. "It's nothing."

He sighed, putting away the datapad and feeling along the small of his back where his blaster remained tucked away under his belt. Hopefully, the man knew enough to kick the nervous habit for the duration of the party. "Then let's just get this over with."

That was the first–and she suspected the last–time she wholeheartedly agreed with him.

As they entered the apartment, the room opened up into a spacious and well-furnished living area, the muted cyan lighting lending to the relaxed ambiance. The same couldn't be said for the choice of music, unfortunately; judging by the raucous blare of drums and squealing guitars, it was some off-shoot of heavy isotope.

Something clicked. Heavy isotope…Kaela'd been a fan of that one band. What was their name again?

_"Come on, Rin!" Kaela whined, splaying herself over the kitchen counter. "You know how much I love the Bloody Rancors!"_

_"So you can watch men nearly three times your age prancing around in ratty wigs while screaming like a bunch of laki cats in heat? So much for my attempts to ingrain any decent musical taste in you."_

_"I still have good taste. I just traded your good taste for a better one."_

_Sweet, wasn't she? "Kae, you know how tight our budget is."_

_Kaela clasped her hands together. "Oh, please, please, please, please, _please! _I promise I'll do dishes for an entire year!"_

_"With your track record? I'm not so sure about that…"_

_"Laundry? 'Fresher duty? Make your caffa every morning?"_

_The fourteen-year-old directed a finger towards Rinna's half-empty cup, which had grown cold in the midst of the day's distractions. As her brow drew together in deep concentration, it wasn't ten seconds before the caffa bubbled and wisps of steam began to rise. She'd been practicing. Show-off._

_Rinna bit back a grin. "We'll see." She patted Kaela on the shoulder, placing a meager portion of nerf sausage with a few greens in front of her. "Right now, it's kind of a toss-up between having fun and this little thing called eating."_

The music was awful back then, and it was still awful several years later. But maybe…maybe she should have bought those tickets while she still had the–

"You must be Yun's new friends." Rinna's gaze jerked towards the man standing next to the built-in bar, sporting a gut that suggested he had not yet grasped the concept of drinking in moderation. "I'm Garret, self-appointed bartender for the evening. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Got anything stiff?" As soon as she said the word "stiff," she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Onasi had raised an eyebrow, but she ignored it.

"There's a bottle of Keluvian brandy if you want to set your insides on fire."

"Perfect."

Garret fetched a small tumbler and filled it nearly to the brim. Once he had turned his back, leaving Rinna to debate how she was going to gulp it all down, Onasi snatched the drink out of her hands. "What the hell?" she hissed.

He pulled her out of earshot as he set down the drink on an unoccupied table. "You don't know what's in that."

"I watched him pour the drink."

"Doesn't mean anything."

"Are you always like this?"

"It keeps me alive."

Frack. This was going to be a _long _night.

There was a sense of listlessness in the air as Rinna made a quick assessment of their surroundings. A guest hunched over on a stool absent-mindedly swirled his finger in his drink as the bartender spun long-winded anecdotes; two other guests braved the makeshift dance floor, if the klutz attempting to revive last decade's moves while a less-than-impressed brunette feigned interest could be counted as dancing. The only spark of enthusiasm in the entire room lingered over in the corner where a couple of kids intent on swallowing tongue went about groping each other as if picking out market produce. Tasteful _and _attractive. Rinna barely held back a roll of the eyes, reminded of the time she'd caught her younger sister making out with that Twi'lek from her history class. Studying, her ass.

From the looks of it, Onasi wasn't terribly ecstatic himself, arms folded over his chest and glaring down the length of his nose at anyone who so much as glanced at him. Going incognito–obviously not his strong suit. She nudged an elbow in his direction. "You need to work on your boyfriend act. So far, not very convincing."

He slowly rotated his head towards her. "What, should I have bought flowers?"

"I'm partial to expensive chocolates, actually."

"Buy your own damn chocolates."

"And they say romance is dead."

He angled his stare at the enamored teenagers, his top lip curling. "I'm not kissing you."

"_Kissing? _Relax, Captain Tightpants," she said, shaking her head when he took a self-conscious glimpse of his attire. "I'd sooner kiss your ass than swap spit with you."

"Oh." A flush of color swept up his stubbled neck. "Well…good. I think. Though…did you have to make it sound so horrible?"

She let out a disgruntled sigh. A real piece of work, this guy was. "Sorry, I'm eight years old and still believe in cooties. For Force's sake, I just meant that we should be over there dancing…or at least mingling. You know, pretending to enjoy ourselves so we don't blow our cover?"

"Most of the people here are half my age. And do I look like I mingle? They're _Sith._" He pointed a finger at her. "This was _your _idea."

"Yes, and all the powers that be forbid you socialize with another human being."

"So what do you call yourself, gorgeous? Don't tell me you're a Hutt in disguise."

Her nostrils flared. There he went again with the damn pet names. "Maybe if I was, you'd finally drop the sweet talk."

"Keep flattering yourself." He lowered his voice, expression sobering. "Anyway, I think it's a little generous to be calling the Sith human."

This? Again? Okay, so Onasi hated the Sith with the burning passion of a thousand suns. _She. Got. It. _"Ona–Davin, these people don't give a shit about the real Sith or their ideals; they just got bored playing with Daddy's money and decided to bully others around just for kicks. A pathetic excuse for the terror of the galaxy."

"They still made a choice. Just like Revan and Malak did."

"Do you want a little synox in your piping hot cup of cynicism?"

He grumbled something under his breath; she assumed it was better that she hadn't been able to make it out. Things were veering dangerously close to getting physical, and not in the illegal-on-fifteen-planets way.

In a huff, Rinna made a beeline for the couch, the sullen commander trailing behind. Maybe it'd be easier to fit in than she thought. It seemed that being awkward was the only real requirement, and Onasi was nailing it. "It's been a while since you've been on the market, hasn't it?"

"I'm _not _on the market."

She motioned with her eyes towards the small indentations on his ring finger. "The lack of a wedding band indicates otherwise."

As soon as the words slipped out, Onasi blanched, casting her an icy glare. She didn't have to read that look twice. _Back. Off._

Rinna had yet to witness the alleged pilot's combat skills in action, but when an earlier altercation with a group of belligerent drunks showed signs of turning ugly, she'd seen the snap of his wrist as he whipped out his blaster before anyone could blink. She wasn't about to test his aim. 'Course, that didn't discourage her from sneaking in one last comeback, plastering on a tight-lipped smile. "You know what? I think I'll take my chances with getting poisoned at the bar."

However, she hadn't made it three feet before she recognized the cantina patron who had extended the party invitation: Yun Genda. He almost fit the tall, dark, and handsome type, except for the fact that his greased-back hairstyle and leering, slightly bug-eyed gaze put a damper on the "handsome" part. Still, she bet he wouldn't have any objections to her having a decent drink, and that already made him a better companion than Onasi. "Well, well," he said, baring his teeth as he smiled. "Look who finally showed up. I was worried we'd have to start the fun without you."

Sure. _They _were the ones holding the "festivities" back. "Sorry, we ran into a bit of a speed bump. Davin here had some trouble with his rash acting up again." Rinna had to press her lips together to keep from breaking out into a smirk when she saw how wide Onasi's eyes had grown.

Yun squinted. "That sounds…unpleasant."

"Very. It's nothing serious, though–just requires rubbing some ointment on his ass."

"His…what?"

"He usually needs my help getting into those harder-to-reach places, if you know what I mean. And since his clothes were already off, I figured why waste the oppor–"

"All right, _dear, _I think he's heard enough." Onasi seized her by the arm, clenching his jaw as he growled, "I'm going to get you for this."

"I'm the one squirting cream on your rear end; would you rather switch places?"

"I'm…not even going to touch that one. But if that's the way we're going to play it, beautiful, I can dish it out with the best of them."

An actual threat? Her lips pursed in amusement. Interesting. The man did have some fight in him. "Honey, please don't start this now. You're embarrassing me in front of our wonderful host!"

"_I'm_ embarrassing–"

"Maybe we should just cut to the introductions," Rinna said. "Yun, this is my boyfriend, Davin. Davin, this is–"

"Yeah, yeah, Yun. The gangly-looking guy from the cantina. Got it."

The younger man sized the pilot up, unsure of whether to be tickled pink or utterly repulsed. "I didn't realize there were men of your maturity that had such stamina. Good for you."

"Oh, this guy's just begging for a knuckle sand–"

"You'll have to excuse him." Rinna put a hand to Onasi's chest to hold him back, pretending to nuzzle up against him. It probably only irritated him further, but hey, she was suffering for appearance's sake, too. "He's a bit on edge today, what with the quarantine and all. Our vacation here on Taris hasn't gone exactly as planned."

"Is that so? Well, it's pleasure to finally meet you, Davin. "

Yun stuck out a hand, but Onasi just crossed his arms. "Charmed. Where's the 'fresher?"

"Down that hall and to your left." Yun wrinkled his nose. "I'm sure I wouldn't want to shake your hand, anyway. I don't know where it's been."

After the commander made a swift exit, Yun nodded at Rinna. "So what's the deal with him?"

"The rash?"

"No, the blaster bolts his eyes shot at me when I offered him a handshake."

"Oh, that." She shrugged, leaning back against the bar. "I doubt he appreciated the crack about him being old. And…I guess you could say he gets a bit over-protective."

"I see. And how do you feel about him being so possessive?"

Rinna glanced down as Yun's hand found her knee. The boy didn't waste any time, did he? "I don't know if I would go so far as to say–"

"Wouldn't you like a little more…freedom?"

Hmm. Subject herself to yet another tiresome game of who could come up with the most double entendres, or drill a corkscrew through her head? Tough choice, though the corkscrew sounded marginally more appealing. Forget what Onasi had said–only way this night was going to move along any faster was if she forced copious amounts of alcohol into the mix. She grabbed a bottle of Twi'lek liquor she'd been eyeing and set it down in front of Yun. "Maybe after we have a few more drinks, I could be further convinced."

He mirrored her grin. "You drive a hard bargain, Catia." He poured the liquor into a couple of tumblers, the liquid a strange tint of green she didn't recognize, gesturing towards her. "Bottom's up."

As Yun raised his drink, she stared into her glass, a little itch creeping into the back of her mind: _You don't know what's in that. _Damn it. Since when did Onasi start making sense? She groaned, gazing longingly at her drink, then proceeded to dump it into the nearby trash receptacle when Yun wasn't looking.

"Now that's what I call potent. Won't take much of this to knock someone off their feet." He stifled a cough as he slammed the tumbler down on the bar, then planted himself onto the stool next to her. "Though that is the plan, isn't it?"

His lips pulled back as he bore a saccharine smile. Almost cloyingly sweet, Rinna thought. She caught a whiff of the strong stench of ethanol on his breath as he inched closer, and she began to wonder if the shadows cast by the overhead lights were playing tricks on her eyes. Something…something in his face seemed to be changing–_warping, _even–distorting his face into jagged contours.

Then she saw them: the black wisps that oozed from his mouth and out his nostrils, shaping into spindly little talons…

She blinked.

And they were gone. Only the glint of his pearly whites remained.

Rinna ignored the ever so slight quiver of her hand as she reached for the liquor bottle once more. "I take it that means you're ready for a second."

"You read my mind."

Her breath hitched in her throat when a hand grazed her shoulder, only allowing herself to exhale once she registered Onasi's face in the dimly-lit room. "Can we talk?" he whispered, dragging her aside. "I don't like this guy, Rinna. There's something…off about him. Not to mention he's the rudest host I've ever met. I hate these condescending, hoity-toity types."

She looked back at Yun, who had begun to line up another round of drinks. Although unnerving, there was something perversely…_alluring _about that young man. She wasn't entirely sure that she wasn't tempted to find out more. But if Onasi had noticed the strange vibes, too…

She hesitated, her eyebrows knitting together, contemplating whether she should comment further. "Maybe you should have listened to me and bought that Tarisian ale like I suggested."

Or she could just deflect the issue entirely.

"Fine, if you're going to make jokes again, forget it." He pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his eyes before continuing. "I did some poking around. No sign of any armor down here. Must be upstairs; I'm guessing that's where the bedrooms are."

A small commotion brewed over by the apartment entrance, Yun shouting out to the few stragglers filtering in as he pumped his fist in the air. "Who's up for some shots?"

"Already working on it," she said out of the corner of her mouth.

Onasi palmed his forehead. "That's what I'm afraid of."


End file.
